


let the fire bright, let it blaze alright (oh, hope that you're good to me)

by youareiron_andyouarestrong



Category: Rogue One: A Star Wars Story (2016), Star Wars - All Media Types
Genre: Different Planets; Different Cultures, F/M, Marriage Proposal, Rings Being Only One Way of Declaring Marriage, Rise of Skywalker? WHAT RISE OF SKYWALKER
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-21
Updated: 2019-12-21
Packaged: 2021-02-25 21:34:18
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,672
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21882331
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/youareiron_andyouarestrong/pseuds/youareiron_andyouarestrong
Summary: At first, Jyn thinks it's some kind of bolt.It is not.
Relationships: Cassian Andor/Jyn Erso
Comments: 26
Kudos: 241





	let the fire bright, let it blaze alright (oh, hope that you're good to me)

At first, Jyn thinks it’s some kind of bolt. 

Maybe a washer. Or a lug nut? Cassian’s always pocketing some little artifact or spare parts around their quarters; a _just in case_ sort of thing. She’s not about to admit she finds it _cute_ or anything like that, but as a habit it’s grown on her. Since she’s allowed to be the only one who can rifle through Cassian’s things at will. She can count on Cassian to have just about anything stored away in one of the nooks or crannies that pocket the Rebellion, or their quarters. 

But upon closer inspection, Jyn realizes the object she’s holding can’t be some kind of part; it’s both somehow too flat and too rounded. It’s made out of a dark gray gunmetal looking material, it sits in the palm of her hand with a pleasant weight and heft. It also has little glittery streaks in the curvature of the band, the chances of it being some kind of mechanical part is unlikely. 

She’s still staring at it in confusion when Cassian comes into the room behind her, already riffling around for extra datapads or whatnots, when he says casually, “I’m going to send Kay to the quartermaster’s, you need any–”

His voice dies away when Jyn turns to face him, her hand outstretched. “What’s this?” 

Cassian looks at the object in her hand, and then at her face, his own expression immediately wiped clean of any expression. “You–you don’t know?”

“I’m asking _you,_ ” Jyn says, still holding out her hand like some kind of damn stuffed dummy. 

Cassian blinks once and Jyn sees a flick of his tongue dart out; one of his sure tells. Other than that, absolutely nothing shows on his face but careful neutrality. “It’s–it’s a band. A marriage band. It’s for when two people–”

“I _know_ what a marriage band is for,” Jyn says, now making the shift from puzzled to slow growing irritation. “It’s mostly a Core world thing. Why do _you_ have one?”

She’s not–she’s not _jealous,_ or anything equally immature or stupid, but the thought of Cassian having a marriage band for _someone else–_ she wants to go out and bash some heads, leave some kind of destruction in her wake. Even if it’s just for a job, or a cover, he isn’t allowed to belong to _anyone_ but her. 

Cassian’s careful blank spy face is now becoming his genuinely baffled face, a favorite expression of hers. “Why do I–Jyn, why do you–”

Jyn is still _not getting it,_ when she looks down at the ring in her hand and then it falls on her like a ton of space junk–

“Oh.” She sounds utterly _stupid._ “Why would–”

“It’s–” Cassian’s ears are turning red, a sure sign of imminent mortification. “It’s a custom on Fest, for bonded or married couples to wear band, I still have my father’s, but that one I had made for you–”

Jyn is gaping. She _knows_ she’s gaping like an absolute fool, but she can’t seem to _stop._ “You had it made for me?”

“Well,” Cassian splutters, “who else would I make it for? How do you _not_ know a marriage band when you see one, didn’t your parents–”

“They didn’t have them,” Jyn says, too overwhelmed to say anything else, “At least, I’m pretty sure they didn’t, but I don’t remember. I think they had sashes or something instead.”

It feels utterly ridiculous, to be standing here, reminiscing on how her parents displayed their marriage, when she’s holding how apparently, Cassian’s people displayed theirs. The ring is growing warm in her hand, and she finds herself curling a fist around it like someone might take it from her. 

They’re now staring at each other, the air between them as thick as durasteel, when Cassian speaks again, very slow and careful, “I had that one made for you, a few months ago. You were on point with the shock troopers. I was planning to offer it to you after the war, but–”

He doesn’t need to finish the sentence. _Who knows_ would be the best possible description. “Do you–is it okay?” he asks, sudden anxiety showing. “I can have another one made if you don’t like it–”

Jyn clutches her fist to her chest, suddenly and purely ready to fight for this little thing. “No!”

“No, you don’t like it?” 

“No, I–” Jyn takes a deep breath, forcing herself to speak _clearly._ “I like it.” _I want it._ “I just–I didn’t know what it was for.”

She can see some of Cassian’s anxiety fading from his face, and hope as sharp her knives. “Can I–can I see it? It might not fit, I’ll have to get it fixed–”

“Please,” Jyn mutters, finally opening her hand to reveal the ring again. As if he doesn’t know the exact length and circumference of every one of her fingers. 

The band sits there still, gleaming dark and promising against her calloused palm and the dark leather of her half glove. Still feeling like she’s having an out of body experience of some kind, she offers it to Cassian, who accepts it as delicately and carefully as if it’s glass, or a bomb. He takes her left hand, removes her fingerless glove and tucks it casually in his free hand, and slides the ring on the fourth finger. It sits there, tucked smooth and perfect at the base, what she realizes are tiny gold and silver and even green flecks. _Stardust,_ she thinks, _stardust in my band_ and thinks if she _cries_ right now, Cassian is never going to recover. Hell, _she_ won’t recover. 

“A perfect fit,” Cassian murmurs. “That’s good. Saves me the trouble of having it resized.”

He sounds utterly casual, like they’re discussing star charts or the mess’s dinner menu, but she looks into his face and what she sees there makes every breath of air desert her lungs. Before she can do something utterly disgraceful, like cry or throw her arms around him and climb him like a tree, she asks, “What about yours? You said–you said you had your father’s.” If _she_ gets to wear a band declaring who she belongs to, than so does he. Jyn’s all for equal opportunity claiming here. 

He blinks, and then reluctantly releases her hand to go to one of his hiding spots (a new one, Jyn is quick to note, for future reference), and comes back with a ring that is an exact copy to the one on her hand currently, only clearly meant for someone’s much bigger hand and wider fingers. She can feel a blush coming up in her cheeks like a signal flare, but she reaches for it and he lets her take it, and take his hand in hers too. He offers her his left hand and she carefully put that ring on him, just like he did hers, on his fourth finger. It fits him perfectly too. 

“Why that finger?” she whispers, staring at it, overwhelmed. 

“On Fest, it was said humans are supposed to have a vein that goes all the way to their heart beginning on that finger,” Cassian says. He’s gripping her hand now and seems in no hurry to let it go. “I’m sure the other worlds have different reasons.”

Jyn nods, not really aware she’s doing so, staring transfixed at the ring. “You know–” she looks up at him, their rings warming on their hands, “It’s not official until we sign a paper. With witnesses or something.”

Cassian nods; probably he knew this already. “Do you want it to be? Official, I mean.”

Jyn thinks about it. Everyone she’s ever loved has left her. Her parents, Saw, the Partisans. But not her people. Not Cassian. She thinks about her life with him, and the one she had without him, and realizes she would gladly burn down the galaxy, smash the Emperor’s throne to pieces with her bare hands, before she ever willingly conceded to living without him. 

Cassian is still holding her hand. Ever patient, ever steady. _My strong right arm,_ Galen Erso had once said to Lyra, when her parents thought she was in bed and could not hear. 

“Yeah,” she says, returning the grip on his hand. “Let’s make it official. I don’t know how _legal_ it can be, though, since we’re both technically criminals–”

Whatever dubious legality she wants to explore has to wait for a later time. Cassian is currently kissing whatever’s left of her brains out. 

*

In the end, it’s made official in a remote little office off Command Center. Bodhi is there, Baze and Chirrut, and Kay. Mon Mothma is there too, incredibly and so is Draven. Leia Organa performs the ceremony since, as she points out, she’s still legally a princess and no one can contest her word. 

They wear their usual clothes, only Cassian has on his best jacket, and Jyn wears a neater shirt. They use Alderaanian vows, because neither of them can remember what words they used on their respective home planets. They swear to love the other, to stand by them, to defend them, to give them the first bite of food and the last sip of the cup. They pledge their hearts and their bodies to each other, the names they will cry out in the night. They vow to stay by the other’s side, until darkness falls and the breaking of the worlds. It’s exactly the kind of overblown sentimentality that makes Bodhi cry and Baze sniff suspiciously, as Kay mutters about the unlikeliness of all these promises. 

They have to exchange the rings again as part of the ceremony, to make it _official,_ and more important than that, they sign a legal document, declaring in the eyes of the soon-to-be Galactic Republic and Planetary Alliance, Cassian Andor and Jyn Erso are each other’s. No one else’s. Not the Empire, not the Rebellion. 

_This is enough,_ Jyn thinks. _This is enough for me._

**Author's Note:**

> I have no excuse for this, nor explanations.


End file.
